A woman with a little girl in a bobble hat on her hip slapped a pile of picture books on the counter. ‘I’ll take these, please,’ she said, stepping close to my side. ‘When you’re ready.’

Kathryn opened the top book and picked up her stamp.

‘It’s coming off,’ I said. ‘There’s no discussion.’

The little girl in the bobble hat looked at me and laughed.

Kathryn thumped her stamp onto the white page. ‘Due back on the thirtieth,’ she said to the woman, sliding the books back over the counter. The woman put them in the bottom of her pram; her little girl waved at me as they walked away.

‘Children should not be allowed to have locks on doors.’ In my coat pocket, I grasped the long point of the tank’s gun.

‘I think you should go now.’ Kathryn’s voice was steady but low.

‘It shouldn’t be allowed. I didn’t have a lock.’

Kathryn slammed the stamp down on the counter. ‘Sometimes I wish I had a lock,’ she said, sticking out her chin, ‘I wish I had a lock. Did you know that, Howard?’

The librarian behind her pretended to sift through a pile of forms, but her head was cocked in our direction.

‘Did I ever tell you that? Did I ever tell you that, when we were first married, it drove me absolutely – ’ she paused and bit her lip, ‘spare, it drove me absolutely spare, the way you watched me all the time, the way I couldn’t move without you flinching, without you asking if I was all right, if I needed anything, asking what was I doing, asking where was I going. All the time, asking questions, checking up on me, all the bloody time! It was a relief when Robert was born because at least then you had someone else to keep your beady eye on.’

We stood for a moment, staring at each other. The librarian behind Kathryn had stopped shuffling her papers and was perfectly still.

I let go of the tank’s gun and buttoned up my coat. The last hole was so stiff that my fingers slipped as I tried to grip the button and force it through. ‘I’m taking the lock off Robert’s door. As I said, there’s no discussion.’

Kathryn blew up into her fringe. ‘Each time you take that lock off, I will replace it.’

‘There’s no discussion, Kathryn.’ I turned to go.

‘Howard?’

I looked back.

She gave a little laugh. ‘Everyone calls him Rob now.’

ten: Joanna, November, 1985

ten

Joanna

November, 1985

Shane isn’t in his shed, so I ring the front door bell. ‘God Save the Queen’ plays three times before Mrs Pearce emerges.

‘Joanna! I haven’t seen you for such a long time.’ Her face looks baggy from sleep. The theme music to That’s Life blares from the living room.